


Michael Hates His Car (But Maybe Not As Much?)

by mesoquatic



Series: bmc drabbles [10]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, and interesting, and this stupid car, ghost jeremy, he died ten years ago, hes done with everyones shit, hes sassy, its more of a, jeremy died in car crash, michael is a cop, nah, platonic comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesoquatic/pseuds/mesoquatic
Summary: Michael is a cop. Jeremy is a ghost who haunts his car.





	Michael Hates His Car (But Maybe Not As Much?)

Ever since Michael bought his used car, he’s never felt alone inside of it. Sure enough, it wasn’t until the dealership suddenly closed and he couldn’t sell it back that he realized that his car had been in a crash. Not any crash, either. A crash that killed someone.

He was raised by his moms to keep an open mind but the idea that there was a ghost in his car was interesting. His friends would always complain that his passenger seat when they sat there. His car would be the temperature of the sun but that seat would stay the same, freezing temperature.

Weeks after giving up and figuring that he was stuck with the car, he decided to do any and all research he could on the crash. It wasn’t hard to find, seeing as the car stayed in town. A drunk mother was driving with her son in the passenger seat. The boy, he would have been the same age as Michael if he lived, died after the car crashed against a railing. The car was fixed by the family and sold quickly.

It wasn’t until one morning, after leaving the precinct from a night shift. It was around four in the morning when someone attacked him. Or, more specifically, something attacked him. He had no idea what drove it away, leaving Michael with bruises and scrapes. He had gotten in his car, on edge as he drove home.

“And another night has ended leaving Mister Detective to sleep all day and have the traditional morning coffee at six p.m, not six a.m.”

Michael jumped in his seat, looking over to see a pale, small boy in his passenger seat. The boy watched him for a few seconds before his eyes went wide.

“Y-You can see me?”

“Get out of my car!” Michael demanded, reaching for his pocket and pulling out his pocket knife. “Now!”

The boy didn’t budge, making no effort to flinch at the knife. “You can’t exactly stab me."

“You teenagers with-” Michael paused, finally taking in the kid’s appearance. “Wait, you-”

“Died in this car? Yeah.”

“Jeremy Heere?”

“That’s me,” he stated, chuckling a bit. “One and only.”

“If you’ve been haunting my car this whole time,” Michael waited until Jeremy nodded, confirming his suspicion. “How come I just now can see you?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

“Maybe it was the guy who attacked you. It’s a full moon, tonight. I’ve seen some interesting things in my years.”

Michael scoffed, waving his knife around a little. “You’re crazy. Now, get out of my car!”

“I’m as sane and real as that time you had sex in the back seat.” Jeremy turned, pointed to a very faint stain in the backseat. “You see, that’s where-”

Michael attempted to cover Jeremy’s mouth but fell over, his hand going straight through him.

“At least take me out to a dinner first, Jesus. Were you raised in a barn?” The boy was staring down at Michael, whose head landed in his legs. The driver scrambled away, clearly freaked out.

“I-I’ve got to be dreaming-”

“I wish I was sleeping.” Jeremy slumped down in the seat, looking up at the ceiling and yawning. “Now, I’m stuck forever tired while you sing to yourself in your seat. Why do you only get drunk in your car? That’s dangerous.”

“Who says I actually drive?”

“You’re the cop in the car.” Jeremy chuckled, smiling a little. “Do your coworkers talk about your cigarette addiction in the office, too, or is it just when you’re getting in or out of your car?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Just a question. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

Michael glared at the boy. “Says the ghost in my fucking car.”

“Says the cop.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jeremy shrugged, drumming his hands to an older tune against his legs.

“You know what?” Michael unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out of the car with his backpack. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Night.”

Michael rushed into his house, checking three times that he locked the door before going to bed. But he didn’t sleep. He stared at his ceiling until he had to get ready for work at three. He thought about taking the bus, seeing Jeremy still in the passenger seat. But, he pressed on, getting into the driver’s seat thirty minutes before his shift started.

“Good afternoon.”

“Don’t you have a better expression than that, Mister Victorian Ghost Boy?”

“I bet your history teacher loved you.”


End file.
